


Atomic

by Iknowthebattle



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Fashion & Couture, M/M, Queer Character, Queer Themes, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-08-02 18:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16310366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iknowthebattle/pseuds/Iknowthebattle
Summary: Harry X Timmy. This takes place in the same world as Regent.Sharing Clothes & Other Things. Fashion and Flirting. The usual.Atomic;of or forming a single irreducible unit or component in a larger system.





	Atomic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MonikaKrasnorada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaKrasnorada/gifts).



“Turn around.”

Timmy was looking in a three way mirror, pulling at the sleeves of a shirt that belonged to Harry. It was see-through, silver, a loose tie at the top.

“What? Can’t you see it in the mirror?”

Harry was lying on his bed, one hand up, directing Timmy with his fingers.

“Mm yeah but I need the full 360.”

Timmy sighed, turning around on his heel so Harry could see the front. He stretched out his arms as if to say, _happy now?_

Harry was smiling, one side of his mouth turned up more than the other.  It was a sleepy, buzzed smile.

“Let me see…”

He hopped off the bed where he had been lying for hours, watching Timmy try on his clothes, making faces, blushing,  then asking if he could borrow this or that.

“Take whatever you want,” Harry had said.

“Huh um _yeah_ ,” Timmy had laughed. “People will notice.”

Harry had shrugged from his place on the bed.

“So what? They’ll notice and then what’s gonna happen?”

He had Timmy there, and on he went trying on pretty much everything he could get his hands on in Harry’s closet; suits, shirts, pants, shoes, even hats.

But this, this was not something Timmy could ever imagine wearing. He completed the look wearing Harry’s white pants, creased tight down the front and back with the word _Loved_ on the cuff. He wore Harry’s black Gucci buckle shoes, no socks. His hair was longer now, curls daring to touch the top of the sparkling collar.

“It looks good on you. Looks silly on me…”  Timmy mumbled. “I’m just dressing up like you.”

Harry was standing behind him now, hands on hips. Timmy was facing the mirror again.

“Nothing wrong with playing a little dress up, now is there?”

Timmy looked at Harry in the mirror.  

“Maybe not for you.” His words were flat, just bitter enough to cause Harry to look up, meet Timmy’s eyes in the mirror.

“You get to make the rules too ya know.” That was Harry. A sing song voice, a little lift of the eyebrow, then he would look away, glance back at you again and nothing more, moving on, just leaving you there to pick up the pieces and do your best to put it all together.

“Here. Maybe the problem’s it’s a bit too big.”

Harry pulled at the fabric, cinching it at the back until it hugged Timmy’s torso and chest, just a bit of room left, exactly how the shirt fit Harry.

“There…that’s better,” Harry’s voice was a murmur behind Timmy on the back of his neck, his accent thick, better sounding more like _betta._

Timmy nodded. It did look better, he had to admit. He could see his thin waist, suddenly broader shoulders and chest under the fabric, the light when he moved, giving you more or less.

“This shirt is just one big tease,” he said, smiling.

Harry lifted his gaze.

“Exactly. That’s the point.”

He held the fabric in place, Timmy running his hands over the front, fingers splayed, touching all parts of his front, his ribs;  the conclave in his chest.

“I like it,” he whispered.

Harry nodded.

“Knew you would.”  

Harry wrapped his hands around Timmy’s waist now, Timmy lowering his hands to rest on Harry’s arms.

“You saw what I wore to-“

“Mmm,” Harry nodded, laughing, mouth against the back of Timmy’s head, curls caught briefly in his teeth. When he pulled away, there was a soft snag.

“So…wanna keep going?”

Harry’s hands were moving up and down Timmy’s chest and stomach now, thumbs hooked on the waistband of his pants, hands hanging weightless above his buttons and zipper.

“With the trying on clothes or…?”

Harry smirked, chin on Timmy’s shoulder.

“With whatever.”

This was also Harry, letting you decide, wanting you to be happy, but never doubting for a moment what he wanted or needed or that he would get it, eventually.

Timmy was much the same, now. Maybe that’s why this worked, the two of them. They said what they wanted, took what they needed with permission, sometimes not needing it, sometimes not caring if they had it or not and in return, they gave to the other tenfold.

There was always scrambling when they saw one another after a while, Timmy reaching for Harry’s belt or zipper, Harry clawing at Timmy’s neck, grabbing him just the way he liked, just hard enough that he was unable to say anything past _Fuck….yes...._ which was always more of a hiss than a string of coherent words.

They were a respite for one another from everything else that was complicated or wearying. This was easy. It was just them, no past or history beyond desire and mutual attraction.

There had been moments of confession, Harry in a shit mood all weekend before Timmy confronted him and they spent the evening talking about what it was like for a boy to be your first love when you were too young to understand what love required of you. Their feet had been swinging in the pool, beers between them, pants rolled up to their knees.

“And then what the fuck do you do?” Harry’s question had hung in the air that night, smoke from his cigarette trailing after the words like a smoke signal; asking for help from a neighboring tribe.

Timmy had shrugged, the night air catching him mid-chill, making him shiver.

“I don’t know. I don’t have any answers.”

“But you always have some kinda answer!” Harry had protested, arms everywhere, ashes falling into the pool like nicotine lily pads.

Timmy had groaned, reached up to scratch a mosquito bite on his shoulder.

“I wish I did, man.” He looked over at Harry, his face cast in blue waves, the reflection of the water.

“But if I knew, I would be….”

Harry drained the last of his beer.

“Yeah.” He put it down between them, a clink of glass on the concrete.

“I know.”

Now they stood there, having attacked one another last night, and again this morning, Timmy only in town for a couple of days; two needy schoolboys it seemed.

But boys had a great hunger, a need to stave off longing with immediate fulfillment. Timmy sometimes imagined he and Harry like the lost boys in _Lord of the Flies_.  They would run wild for a while, soaking up sun and salt, sleeping off the days, and dancing through the nights. Then they would organize, realize order was needed, and then in the end, kill off anyone who wasn’t in full agreement with their pact, their rule of law, a nation of two.

But he knew they would never harm anyone with a sword, instead silence was the deadly weapon he knew they both employed.

Both were anything but silent now, Harry’s hands ghosting over the outline of Timmy’s cock through his pants, Timmy’s head back onto Harry’s shoulder, deep moans clawing their way out of his throat, caught between puffs of air, a release.

Two young libidos, never fully satisfied. Timmy was smart enough to know this, he figured Harry was too. It wasn’t a space to fill, a glory hole, just another pretty face or warm body.

They both knew it was more than that by now.

Timmy let the full weight of his body fall against Harry who held him there. They took turns being the supportive structure. Now it was Timmy’s turn. He was the well run dry, the one who had been pretending for too long, unfulfilled in that very particular way and while Harry knew he would never be the stream that satiated the total hunger, he was an evergreen body of water, rich and ripe for the taking and the giving.

Timmy felt his bones go hollow, weightless in Harry’s arms, his mouth on his neck, both hands working to free him of the pants that were two sizes too big.

“You make me feel huge,” Harry said against Timmy’s ear and they both laughed, boyish and loud at the innuendo, mutual in their mocking and lust.  

“I’m not complaining,” Timmy reached behind him, grabbed the firm outline of Harry’s cock and squeezed. Harry hissed eyes shut briefly in pleasure, surprise.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he said.

Timmy pressed his ass back against Harry’s hips, their bodies lining up perfectly, Harry’s hands forming a V shape around Timmy’s crotch.

“Are you pretending it’s a pussy?” Timmy asked, half serious, half joking.

Harry shook his head, his own curls falling forward onto his forehead, onto the back of Timmy’s head, light brown tendrils marrying dark brown.  

“No. When I’m with you, I’m with you, should know that.”

Timmy did knew that, was sure of it but this was his little version of dirty talk.

They both walked on different sides of the street, going off road, coasting on the shoulder, getting off at ages, 10, 11  coming at the thought, the images of boys first, girls second, but the feeling was mutual between the two until it wasn’t, and then it was again.

Harry told him it would never be anyone’s business or make sense to most people out there, and Timmy would make a noise with his mouth and pull Harry in for a hug and a kiss that always led to more, ending the conversation.

“You don’t have to decide right now what you wanna do,” Harry was fond of saying, flitting around his kitchen, making Timmy breakfast or unpacking Thai  or Indian take away for dinner onto matching, expensive plates.

Harry liked to take care of him. He wasn’t a Father Figure, more like a twin shadow, always one step ahead of him in the spotlight.

Timmy was being pulled back to the bed now, walking backwards, Harry’s arms still around him. They fell back on the mattress, limbs misaligned in every direction.

“But there’s that pink Gucci suit I wanted to try on…” Timmy’s attempt at distraction was feeble, half-hearted.

“You can, you can,” Harry insisted, covering Timmy’s mouth with his ringed fingers.

“But you have to promise you’ll walk down the hallway and give me a full show after.” Harry’s words were only said in semi-jest.

 Timmy looked up at him, licking the palm of Harry’s hand placed on top of his lips, eyes focused on Harry’s face. It tasted salty, just a little bitter from his expensive bathroom hand soap.

Harry moved his hand down, fingers looping around the tie at the top of Timmy’s borrowed shirt. He loosened it, sliding his hand beneath the shirt; it was warm on Timmy’s cool chest.

Timmy looked up at him, wide eyed, reaching a finger up to trace the side of Harry’s face, running it along his jaw line until he reached his chin. Timmy grabbed him there, forcing his attention to stay on Timmy’s face. Harry liked being told what to do and how.

“I want you to ride me,” his words were choked out, Harry’s hand now resting on top of his throat, running his thumb over the thin skin, small pressure on Tim’s Adam’s apple.

Harry nodded.

“Ok. Alright.” It was a whisper, matter of fact, not stoic, but suddenly aware of his role, turned on, ready.

Timmy got up, scooting his body to the top of the bed where a thousand pillows awaited him. He let his head rest on two, propped up so he could watch every single thing.

“You don’t wanna take these off?” Harry was hovering over him on knees, fingers on the loose tie of the shirt.

Timmy nodded. “I want you to take _your_ clothes,” a finger pointed at Harry. “…off of _me_.” A finger pointed back to him.

Harry smirked.

“Fine then.”  

Harry set to work on removing his shoes from Timmy’s feet, moving up to unfasten his pants, sliding them off his hips easily, nothing underneath.

“You may as well be wearin’ a sheet, white pants, nothin’ underneath, a see-through shirt!” Harry laughed.

Timmy shrugged, lazy smile, one hand in Harry’s nest of curls.

“Yeah, like a fancy little ghost,” he breathed.

He was wearing only Harry’s shirt now, and Harry worked his way down the buttons, letting it fall open on either side of Timmy’s rib cage.

“Leave it, just like that,” Timmy said, grabbing Harry’s wrist, stopped him from pulling the shirt from his shoulders.

Harry said nothing, just slipped his own shirt off over his head, his ponytail loosening. He reached back and snatched out the hair tie, shoving it on his wrist in one fluid motion.

“Fuck, I like your hair,” Timmy was practically vibrating, his body eager.

Harry bent over, shrugging out of his jeans, feet bare, his hair resting like a soft curtain on Timmy’s face, his neck.

Timmy actually giggled, tugging on a few locks, putting them in his mouth, between his teeth.

Harry laughed, sitting up on his knees again, pushing his hair back.

“Maybe if you’re nice I’ll let you braid it,” Harry was laughing hysterically and Timmy joined in, their bodies shaking with delight.

“Mmm…” Timmy’s laughter died down, his hands reaching up to touch Harry’s stomach, fingers on the laurel wreaths on his hip bones.

“You’re like Roman royalty or something, looking at these.” Timmy’s voice was quiet. He was focused, looking at Harry, tracing the outline of one of the laurel wreaths with two fingers.

Harry watched him, holding his hair back with one hand, the other easing down the sides of Timmy’s cock, up and down, base to tip with a tight, slow fist.

Timmy’s hips twisted upward, his belly shaking.

“ _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ ,” Timmy’s voice was a raspy chant, with just a dry hand fuck.

He looked from his cock up to Harry’s face, and back again, arching his back, shoulders deep in the bed, Harry’s shirt falling off both shoulders like a glittered shawl.

Harry looked only at him, knew enough about what he was doing that he didn’t need to study his movements, it was muscle memory, touching every vein and nerve he knew made Timmy roll his eyes, sweat, moan and smile.

“If you keep doing this…” Timmy warned, hands still on Harry’s hips. Harry was now moving his body up and down in time with the movement of his hand on Timmy.

“Mm, yeah, you’re right there,” Harry purred.

The lube from that morning’s session was still on the bed and both reached for it, both grabbing it, giving exhausted laughs, both at the peak of their desire. Their hands were almost shaking as they  both opened the bottle, turning it upside down, letting it trickle down onto Timmy’s cock, Harry catching some on his fingers.

Harry was good at this, at all of this, even at the height of need.

He teased Timmy just enough, touching, hovering just enough above Timmy until his moans turned to whines turned to growls and then he was begging.

“ _Please, please, please….”_ A bit of spit on his lips that Harry bent down to lick off, Timmy fooled, opening his mouth for a kiss, tongue stuck out half way.

Harry settled his body down, his stomach muscles taut, thighs shaking as Timmy helped, guiding him by the hips, watching himself dissolve into him. This was always his favorite part, being consumed by another, no escape.

He liked the feeling of being trapped, choked; nestled. Pressure, attachment made him feel loved.

Harry reached up now, grabbing his shoulders, thumbs on his collarbones.

“Higher,” Tim instructed.

Harry wrapped one hand around his throat, muttering _“Yeah?”_

Timmy nodded, felt his body relax, and knew he was all the way in by how it felt, by the way Harry’s body moved, how his hips and stomach rolled, the ink across his rib cage fluttering.

Timmy was captivated by the movement, knowing it was for his pleasure, Harry’s moans subtle, then louder as Tim pushed his own body upward, meeting him halfway.

Timmy had always loved watching someone take care of him, pleasure him, pretending to be shy when someone made him dinner or sucked him dry, but all the while, there he was, eyebrows raised, little smile, knowing it would come.

This was the nature of their relationship; half and half, each giving and taking in equal parts.

Separate they were a thousand sparks.  Together they were a soft milky way full of light, blanketed by black, hidden but indispensable.

**Author's Note:**

> Iknowthebattle on Tumblr x  
> Thank you to all who encouraged me to re-post since this is not my favorite piece of writing I've done. x


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